Light My Way
by Arallion
Summary: And a little child shall lead them... Abel tries to keep young Caterina from running away from her troubles, and has a moment of deja vu. Oneshot exploratory drabble.


**Title: **Light My Way

_(excerpt from "Transcendence")_

**By: **S. Arallion

Based loosely on the anime series "Trinity Blood" _(originally crafted as a novel by Yoshida Sunao, turned into manga by Kiyo Kuujou and most recently developed into an anime series produced by GONZO)_

**Disclaimer:** All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders and authorized licensors —namely, not myself. Anything you don't recognize is my fault. I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters. - Arallion

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"Lady Caterina!"

It had been an educated guess, based on two things: the height and general build of the shadowy cloaked form running gracefully through the encroaching mist, and the dinner fiasco earlier in the evening. The disastrous meal had ended with one sibling rushing from the table in tears and the other two frozen in place, one shivering in anger, one in fear, determined to keep a strong face before the father-figure who resented them all for their birthright.

The cloaked form skidded to a halt on the pebbled walk, and a pale face turned towards him, luminous in the starlight. "Father Abel…" The youthful, bell-toned voice quavered, then firmed. "Don't try to stop me."

"Who said I was going to stop you?" His voice, amused, disarming. It had the desired effect – her eyes flew wide and her lips, pursed in what would someday become an ominously stubborn look, fell open in confusion. He continued, stepping casually onto the gravel path. "After all, I really have no idea what you're doing. Do you?"

Bright sapphire eyes glittered at him. "Of course."

"Something I can help with?" He was actually very good at playing innocent these days. He still wasn't certain where that skill had come from.

"Absolutely not." On the other hand, the young Caterina Sforza had managed to acquire a quite masterful command of what could be considered an "acidic temperament". That, he imagined, had probably come from dealing with her half-brother Francesco. He felt a brief pang of sadness at how quickly this young human was being forced to grow up.

He was even with her now, on the path; close enough to catch her easily should she bolt, but he hoped that would be unnecessary. "Are you _certain_ you know what you're doing?"

There was silence for a long moment. She was looking at her feet – or maybe his. From this angle, he couldn't tell. Finally, a very small, saddened voice wafted up to him, nearly inaudible. "It's just not fair."

He leaned down to hear better, brows knitting in confusion. "What's not fair, Miss Caterina?"

Instead of elaborating, she grabbed his lapel with a surprisingly strong grip and dove into the underbrush, dragging him behind her along a tiny, barely-worn trail. He made a slight move to resist but she merely shot him "the look" and tugged harder, so he gave in with a helpless sigh. At least she didn't seem to be planning on running away anymore.

After a few moments they fetched up against a tall stone wall; as he'd expected, the outer wall of the Vatican grounds. And she'd led him unerringly to the gardeners' access gate, just as he'd feared she might. Children always found things like this, no matter how cunningly the grown-ups thought they were hidden…

"Miss Caterina – "

"Shh – " she cut him off with a sharp gesture, before opening a small pouch strung around her wrist and removing a tiny, wrought-iron key.

"You have the _key_, too?" he choked out, quietly astonished, and then covered his mouth in apology as she glared at him. How she'd managed to get her hands on _that_, he really didn't want to know.

With a soft click, the gate swung open, and she stepped through after peering cautiously up and down the street outside. He slipped through immediately behind her, briefly alarmed that she might close it between them, but it seemed that she had no such intention. She pulled him down none-too-gently behind the small hedge that obscured the gate from the road, as if trying not to be seen.

"Look," she said quietly, pointing up at one of the buildings.

He looked.

Framed in the paned window, a family was sitting down to dinner. The light of oil lamps spilled golden light into the street as a tired-looking, graying man smiled kindly at his small daughter, ladling a helping of food onto her plate. The man glanced up as a matronly but gentle-looking woman, presumably his wife, leaned across the table to deposit another steaming dish. Smiling again mischievously, the man said something that made the woman blush and swat at him with her free hand.

The prosaic family scene continued above, and Abel turned to stare at Caterina in mute question.

She was gazing up at the window raptly. "That. It's not fair," she repeated, a broken whisper this time. "Why isn't my family like this? We live in the House of God, but nothing as sacred as this lives within."

The bleak observation stunned him into silence, and he gaped at her for a moment before recovering himself. "Miss Caterina…"

"I know what you're going to say, Father, but I've thought about it and it's not true," she hissed, meeting his gaze with fierce eyes. He – almost – recoiled at the sight, something about the expression bringing back faded memories of starscapes and warped, angry reflections in curved glassteel windows.

"What, then, was I planning to say?" he asked instead, keeping his voice gentle and steady with an effort.

"You were going to tell me that it's all because of our circumstances, because we have the responsibility to provide guidance and hope for the people."

He blinked, because she _had_ predicted his argument. Most of it, anyway.

"Well, I didn't ask for these circumstances… and I don't have any _choice_, do I? _What choice did we have?_"

The bitterness in her voice struck him hard, the echo of her words resonating in dark corners of his mind. He must have physically recoiled this time, for she looked at him in sudden apprehension.

"Am I a horrible person for thinking this, Father? I just… I know I'm jealous, and jealousy is a sin. But I also can't help but wonder – how can people trust and believe in us, and love God through us, if we can't even stop our politics long enough to love each other?"

He swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat, a red-planet-sized, bloodstained lump of vengeance and despair. What right had _he_ to counsel her?

But… who else, in the whole of the world, would dare?

"Miss Caterina… look again at those people. The man, he works at the Vatican. The salary he makes pays for the meal that he brings his family. He is tired, but happy, because he believes in what he does, and his family believes in him.

"Your life… is not that simple."

She caught her breath with a tearful gasp but he managed to hold her gaze. "Listen to me, Caterina. These people, they live, love and hope because of you and the God you represent; because of the power you have been given to make their lives better. You are being asked to sacrifice much for this power, I know. You may never experience the same peace, the same kindness that you look on in that room.

"But, Miss Caterina… to know that you can help that sort of love to exist in the world…isn't it worth it?"

The words fell from his lips too easily, and he held his breath for a long moment, waiting for the stab of wounded conscience that would surely result. _She doesn't know_, he reminded himself, willing the color back to his face. _She doesn't know what a hypocrite you are in saying that._ The words themselves he knew to be true… it was merely that he'd never been able to take that truth into his own jaded soul.

To her credit, she did not look away. Her eyes glimmered with tears, but they did not fall; a dying sorrow, a wash of understanding diluting the anger and hurt and making it something new and regally beautiful. It was that day that he knew; she was in fact far stronger than he had ever been.

And perhaps in this woman-child's grace, he too would find the strength to forgive.


End file.
